


The thief

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Insecure Q, Insecurity, M/M, Protective James Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5237027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A thief ends up stealing more than a double oh's wallet. And James is fascinated more than annoyed or ashamed, despite whatever M is yelling in his ear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The thief

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, the story was shorter and Q wasn't so insecure. It also had more action in it and it took place in another country. However, due to the recent events in the world, I changed it. 
> 
> I apologize in advance for the mistakes and I hope you still enjoy it despite them.

On some level, James supposed that he should feel shame. M certainly seemed to believe that, what with the woman chewing his ear off and calling him an incompetent, horny old man who somehow tripped and fell with his dick in his double oh status for half an hour after he had been pick pocketed.

 

“M, you kiss your grandchildren with a mouth like that?” James couldn’t help but tease, casually trailing after the thief.

 

 _“I am going to revoke your license to kill and to exist with this mouth, 007_ ,” she shouted back in his ear, making him flinch. “ _How the bloody hell is it possible for the supposedly best that MI6 has to offer get robbed anyway? And if the next thing that comes out of your mouth is ‘her cleavage was distracting’…”_ She trailed off, letting James imagine what his punishment would be.

 

But in all honesty, for the first time in a long time, James had been distracted by a man. To be more exact, by a young man with a pair of green eyes shining with mischief that captivated him from behind a thick pair of glasses while a pair of nimble, thin hands sneaked into his coat and did away with his wallet. And his voice had been so sweet and posh when he apologized with just a touch of a German accent, stealing a smile alongside the money, credit cards, ID and – most importantly – the USB stick that was James’ mission.

 

He had winked and waved a little at him as he continued to slowly walk away, the setting sun looking like a halo behind his wild, brown hair. Only after the young man had disappeared behind a corner did James realize that his clothes had holes in them and were a tad dirty and that he was grossly underdressed for the middle of winter and extremely thin.

 

A quick check revealed that he was one wallet lighter and when he rushed after him, the man was no more in sight. It didn’t take long for James to find him, of course, the snow being more than helpful despite how fast the little thief was on his feet and how easily he managed to blend in with his surroundings.

 

“Stranger things have happened, M.” Like him still being alive and not in a coma or permanently crippled – physically, that was; mentally, not so much – after 130 attempts on his life. “And before you continue with your threats, I have the man in my sights and I don’t plan on losing him any time soon.”

 

He heard M click her tongue and he pictured her pinching the bridge of her nose, the clink of glass on wood confirming that Tanner had indeed brought the MI6 head something to drink – probably that good scotch that James always tried to steal, and failed, from her mahogany cabinet.

 

“ _Any other agent saying that would help my tension go down, but because it came from your bloody mouth, I fear for the outcome_.” She could be so dramatic for someone who stroke fear even in the Prime Minister’s heart. “ _I am not even going to waste my breath telling you not to sleep with him, but just do it after you finish the bloody mission._ ”

 

Sweet silence followed after that and James was left to stalk his little hunter-turned-prey in peace. And James had to admit that this was the most interesting thing he had done in a long time, despite having being shot at not three hours ago.

 

The thief hadn’t thrown the wallet and he was walking with what appeared to be a little skip in his step. Although that might had something to do with all the snow that was entering his shoes and not with the joy he felt knowing that he had at least three thousand euro cash safely tucked in his flimsy jacket.

 

He followed him to a little shop, surprised when the man bought fruits, sweets, bread, and all sorts of cold meats instead of alcohol. He ignored the stink eye that the security guard gave him and left the shop with a huge smile on his face, taking a sharp left down an alley where he was instantly sour rounded by an army of dirty children.

 

They all clung to him and called him their elder brother – none looked like him, so James knew that he wasn’t really related to them –jumping for joy when he started to pack them each a bag with the food – bags which James hadn’t seen him pay for, so he concluded that the man stole the roll just because.

 

His deep voice somehow rang over the children’s sharper and louder ones, telling them what shelters were going to be opened for that night and how to get to them. He scolded a few of them, gently tugging on their ears. James thought it was because they had been caught stealing, but he was shocked again when he realized that the man was upset with them because they had sticky fingers.

 

After promising not to do it again, they dispersed and James ducked behind some garbage cans so he wouldn’t be seen.

 

The man stopped again in front of a fancy shop, pushing his head against the window like a little child, all of his attention devoted to a pair of shoes. By James calculation, the thief had just enough to buy it and he was disappointed when the man didn’t. Instead, he walked to a smaller shop and bought five pairs that were obviously for children. The woman at the counter took pity on him and gave him back a twenty euro note, throwing a red scarf that was on sale around his neck.

 

He looked extremely happy as he wrapped it around his neck, rubbing his face against it before pulling it over his cute, red nose. This time, the thief walked right past James, humming a little happy tune and completely blind to the word surrounding him.

 

They ended up in the poor part of the city and the man proved to be as agile as a monkey when he climbed up a fence and onto a broken fire escape, starting to tap lightly against the window on the third floor. It was hard for James to see what was going on without revealing himself, but the smell of food reached even him and he heard someone laugh – the thief, since it had been a deep and joyful noise that he wanted to hear over and over again – before his little thief jumped back down.

 

He no longer had the bag with shoes on and an older woman appeared on the fire escape, scolding him for the stun he pulled. She started to wave a wooden spoon when he stuck his tongue out at her and James pushed himself up against the wall as the man bolted past him, a little jar clutched tightly at his chest, the woman still yelling after him that if he knew what was good for him, he’d eat what she had given him.

 

Rush hour came and tracking him started to get harder, James losing him once in the crowd that was gushing out of the many buildings. It was by luck that the man had such a distinct red scarf and he easily pinpointed him a few good meters in front of him.

 

Not wanting to risk losing him and his USB stick for good, James decided that it was time for his little game to end. He would give the man a good talking to, warning him about the dangers of robbing others before forcing him in new clothes and shoes. Maybe even force a good meal down his throat and if he was lucky, convince his contact to find something decent to do for the thief who managed to rob the best double oh agent.

 

He realized the scarf was on another man’s neck the instant he saw the grey hair and the small hunch, groaning when he turned the homeless person around to get confirmation that his thief hadn’t realized that he was being followed and pulled a disguise out of his ass.

 

The old man got scared when James tugged on the scarf and started to shake his head, explaining that it was his. His friend gave it to him and James couldn’t have it and when he realized that James was looking at the jar of food, he started to struggle, yelling for the cops.

 

Of course the homeless person almost got arrested, James needing a good ten minutes to make up a lie about how he was searching for his friend who had run away from London and someone had said that they’d seen him living on the streets of this city.

 

“This place is full of people like that,” one of the cops said. “It will be for the best if you file a missing person report, leave us a phone number where we could reach you and go back home. We’ll call you as soon as he shows up.”

 

As soon as he shows up dead or in a hospital, James thought but still smiled at the two. He couldn’t really fault them for not having the necessary man power to actually search for someone who wasn’t a child or known to be in immediate danger. Which the young thief was, but James couldn’t exactly explain why that was.

 

“I will do just that, but I will keep looking around for myself if you do not mind.” He nodded his goodbyes to the cops and then tried to find the old homeless person again, hoping to asking in what direction his friend went only to find himself lost in the middle of a sea of people, no red scarf in sight.

 

He didn’t think he asked for too much if just _one_ of his missions or planes worked without so much as a minor glitch. But no; the fates had something against him or he had _somehow_ offended them to the point of allowing a cute little street rat get the best of him.

 

M was going to have a fit and the pretty young thief with the golden heart was going to end up dead in a ditch somewhere if James’ enemies got to him first.

 

Pulling out his phone after _accidentally_ destroying his earwig so M couldn’t use her voice to kill him, James called the only person who wouldn’t ask for his soul in return for their help. “R, have I recently told you how great you are?”

 

***

 

Today had to be his luckiest day in his entire life. His target, a young gentleman dressed like he was royalty which instantly turned him into a beacon on the radar of every thief that was in that zone, had a wallet full of money on top of looking good and being easily distracted.

 

It was impossible for the man to really miss the money Q had spent and, after finding out what exactly was on that USB stick he had found alongside the man’s work ID – an account manager for a company named Universal Exports and his former target was named James Bond – he would return his wallet.

 

He used the twenty euro bill to buy himself an hour and a weak tea at an Internet Café, a surge of excitement travelling through him the second he relayed there was a decent encryption on the USB stick. It would take him an estimated thirty minutes to get passed that because the computer was so limited, but at least he was going to be entertained.

 

If he found material that made him sick to the stomach, he would send the cops after him after returning his wallet. But he doubted that was the case since this James, while having an air of mystery mixed with just a hint of danger around him which was completely atypical for an account manager from boring old London, he didn’t give off _those_ kind of bad vibes.

 

“Oh, hello you beautiful thing,” he whispered and licked his lips when the real program on the USB revealed itself to him – he might have also sighed in relief that his thief instincts hadn’t let him down. “Let’s see if my fingers are magical enough to get you to fully reveal yourself to me.”

 

He had to work fast since he only had half an hour and no cash left. The computer was slowing him down immensely and he groaned, resting his head on the table as he waited for the ancient thing to catch up with what he had typed.

 

Still, this was a very strange thing for an account manager to have in his wallet. What sort of accounts did this man manage? And didn’t he know that he could keep everything in a private server, cut off from the actual internet and accessible only to him and his company if they were that afraid of getting hacked?

 

He took out the man’s ID, running his finger down his face. “Or maybe you turned traitor and you’re selling your clients’ information?” He tapped the plastic card lightly, smiling softly for a moment before focusing back on the program.

 

At the five minutes left warning, Q managed to get a glance at the first file and, for the first time in forever, felt actual fear. He was staring at a report regarding blood diamonds and the names of some really powerful people in various governments that were involved with them. And before he could try to think what to do with that, he realized that the USB stick had been infected with a virus that was tracking his location while systematically erasing every file on the network he was using.

 

The café shop’s doors were kicked open and five shady men entered, showing a wad of cash in the owner’s chest before starting to check the computers. Q instantly realized that they were looking for him and, after pocketing the USB stick, he sneaked out through the window in the bathroom – the many advantages of being underfed.

 

The second his foot touched the ground, someone jumped him, pushing him into a wall while covering his mouth. “They’re really dangerous so don’t make a sound,” his assailant hissed in his ear. “Did you look at the USB stick?” Q shook his head and the man squeezed him harder. “I react a lot better to being robbed than to being lied.”

 

To Q’s shame, he could recognize the aftershave and the well-toned chest anywhere and his heart started to beat faster. It was clear by now that this James Bond was anything but an account manager. The best case scenario, he was a good guy who was planning on using the information on the USB stick to take the bad guys down. Worst case scenario, he was someone who planned on blackmailing them with the info he got and Q was just an obstacle in his doomed scheme to get rich quick.

 

He started to struggle and try to land a kick somewhere where it counted, upset that the man chuckled instead of groaned in pain. “You remind me of a mosquito, although you somehow managed to be less annoying than one,” James whispered in his ear and turned him around, hands still over his mouth. “If you scream, they’ll come out and start shooting, understand?”

 

Q nodded and the hand disappeared from his mouth. “I think you have me confused with someone else, sir,” he instantly started to lie. “This is the first time I see you and I do not know anything about an USB stick or whatever.”

 

James arched his eyebrow and sneaked his hand in Q’s jacket, pulling out his wallet. “You are in a lot of trouble and not because you stole from a spy that’s on Her Majesty’s payroll.” He held on to Q’s arm to keep him from running away while checking his wallet.

 

“I only to the money; everything else is still there,” Q grumbled, ceasing his struggling when James squeezed his arm. “I was going to give it back, I swear. Can you let me go now? I don’t know anything, I didn’t see anything and my memory is so horrible that I already forgot what you look like.”

 

“I’m afraid that it’s too late for me to do that.” He sounded apologetic and he was looking somewhere behind Q. “Much, much too late. Get down and cover your ears.”

 

Q didn’t really understand at first, but did as he was told due to how scary the supposed spy’s eyes were. When he heard gunshots, he screamed and then a second later he was running down an alley, his face pushed against James’ chest as the man’s free arm was wrapped protectively around him.

 

His ears were still ringing when they jumped into a car, his heart beating so fast and hard that it felt like it was trying to jump out of his chest. “Please, I don’t know anything and I can’t give you back the money I stole,” he pleaded, clawing at the manual lock. “I’d only get in your way.”

 

Wrapping an arm around his shoulder, James pulled Q away from the door, forcing him to rest his face against his chest. “You are under my protection until I deal with these people. You clearly did something that led them to you and it won’t be that hard for them to check the café’s security tapes and find out how you look like.” He ran his hand down Q’s arm, the driver glancing in the mirror and shaking his head.

 

They pulled up in front of the most expensive hotel in town, Q too stunned and scared to say anything. He expected to be dragged out of the place and thrown right in the back of a police van, but with James arm around his shoulders, no one questioned his presence there.

 

The hotel manager himself came out of his office to check James in, Q wondering how it was possible for the man to have such a huge smile on his face and not be in pain. “Always a pleasure to have you back, Mister Bond. Shall we get anything for you or for your friend?”

 

“He’ll need new everything, starting from underwear and finishing with silk pyjamas.”He tossed the manager a black credit card, running the back of his hand down Q’s face. “I’ll also need a straight blade razor.”

 

Q would have liked it if no one else was in the elevator on their way up to the penthouse, but as it happened they were sharing it with an old woman who looked mortified and a couple who were whispering quite loudly how it was possible for someone like _him_ to be allowed in the hotel.

 

“He stinks,” the woman complained and Q knew that his smell wasn’t that bad since he had washed that morning. He washed daily, actually, and never slept in dirty alleys. “Shouldn’t someone call security? He’s infecting us with his—“

 

“Infecting you with his what?” James stepped in, unleashing his full glare at the woman. “And I am sorry to point this out, but the horrible smell in here is coming from your partner’s cheap cologne.” He turned to the man then, cruel smile in place. “Tell me, do you know that you’re supposed to use soap with water? Or are you still trying to figure out how to turn the water on?”

 

Q started to laugh, face hidden in the palm of his hands. It felt strange when someone who didn’t really live in his world stood up for him, but nice. Once the couple stormed out of the elevator, promising to make an official complaint with the front desk, Q expected the old woman to say something. But the woman said nothing and only held on tighter to her purse, watching him with narrowed eyes.

 

He snorted and shook his head; as if she’d ever be Q’s target. For once, she was an old lady and Q did have a semblance of honour. And secondly, she was decked in fake jewellery from head to toe with the exception of the two wedding rings she had – one on her finger, second one on a chain around her neck which must have belonged to her husband – and the bag she was clinging on with her life was a clear fake. She had probably saved for an entire year to come to this hotel.

 

“Are you planning anything that will get you into even more trouble than you already are?” James whispered in his ear after the woman stepped out of the elevator, arms crossed over his chest. “I will give you more money after I’m done.”

 

Q frowned and moved away from him, suddenly terrified of how that sounded. “I do not steal from old women and I don’t sleep with people for money.”

 

“Good, because I never pay the people I sleep with it.” He ruffled Q’s hair and pushed him out of the elevator, guiding him to his room. “The bathroom is to the right. Take as much time as you need. There is no limit on the hot water and they bullet-proofed the walls to this room since my last stay, so don’t worry.”

 

Remembering just in what dangerous situation he had managed to get himself in, Q ran to the bathroom and locked the door behind him before James could stop him. Breathing had become hard for him and he felt like he was burning up so he stripped, turned on the cold water, huddled under it and covered his hears to block out every sound.

 

In the past, when he had been a lot inexperienced when it came to relieving people of their thick wallets, he had gotten beaten up and almost sent to jail. Never, in his rather short career as a thief after getting disowned by his entire family for preferring men over women when it came to partners, had he been in a life or death situation.

 

Oh God, what was he going to do? He should have gone for the cocky tourist. Or maybe he should have instantly ditched the wallet after he got the money. Yeah, he’ll keep that one in mind for the next time. If there was going to be a next time.

 

“There won’t be a next time because I’ll die,” he whispered horrified, screaming the second he felt someone touch his shoulder.

 

James waited for him to calm down before placing an arm around his shoulders, pushing his face in his neck. “I promise that everything is going to be okay. I will not let anyone touch a single strand of hair on your head and the only reason why you won’t steal again is because you’ll give it up.” He hesitated for a moment before placing a kiss on the side of his head.

 

“Father was right,” Q whispered. “I shouldn’t have... If I was...” He trailed off and sighed, pushing his glasses over his head so he could rub his eyes. “I should have gone for the tourist.”

 

James frowned, taking the man’s glasses off his head and carefully putting them on the edge of the tub. “Whatever your father said, given the situation you are in and what you do to survive, I am sure he wasn’t right.” He tilted Q’s head back and pushed the hair out of his eyes. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Robin Hood in my head, and my boffin friend couldn’t find anything on you.”

 

Q let out a noise that was a mix between a hiccup and a chuckle. “Someone wished me out of existence and I fulfilled that wish.” He shivered and moved closer to James, distracted for a moment by the white shirt through which he could see. “Everyone just calls me Q now.”

 

James hummed. “You somehow manage to make that letter into an actual name.” He picked up the shampoo, smiling at Q. “Would you let me wash your hair and back?”

 

Q hesitated for a second, worrying his lip before nodding and turning with his back to James, resting his head on his knees and wrapping his arms around them. He started to relax when the man started to gently massage his scalp, sighing. For a moment, he could pretend that nothing was wrong and that James and he were… special.

 

He shivered when James kissed the base of his neck, using the base of his palms to rub circles in his shoulders. “Do you trust me enough to let me shave you with a straight razor after this? Or do you want to use the electric razor in here to do it yourself?” He whispered in Q’s ear, lips brushing against it and making him shiver. “I promise to be extra careful if you do.”

 

Q nodded weakly and leaned against James’ chest, turning his head slightly. Against his better judgement and against the voice in his head that told him to push the man away and run, he wanted to kiss him. He wanted to taste danger just a little; a kiss and nothing more.

 

But before he could toss all caution into the wind someone knocked at the door and James growled, excusing himself. “They just brought me your clothes, don’t worry,” he said carefully when Q clung to one of his arms. “Remember our driver? He works with me and the hotel is filled with undercover agents by now. You’re safe.”

 

Q still locked the door behind James – noting the tiny scratches on the outside of the lock –and, after putting the bathrobe on, started to poke his nose in every cabinet. He stuffed all the little soap bars, shampoos and perfume bottles that he was sure didn’t belong to James in his pockets before starting to dry his hair, wondering if there was a possibility for him to steal the towels as well.

 

He had gotten around to stuffing the unused toothbrushes in his pockets when a knock on the door startled him and he hit his face against the wall. “Q? Q is everything okay?” James asked with obvious worry in his voice, cussing when he realized the door was locked again. “For the love of—“

 

“I’m fine, don’t worry! I just thought I saw a roach and I threw something after it,” Q lied, groaning internally at how lame it sounded. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

 

Not that James cared, head already sticking through the door, blue eyes searching for any signs of trouble or intruders, lingering for an extra second on Q’s filled pockets. “No need to rush, Q. I still need to shave you anyway.” He disappeared for a second and then returned with a chair, Q sitting on it without being told.

 

“Tilt your head back and give me the shaving cream from your right pocket,” James instructed, pretending not to notice Q’s red face as he put a little black box in the sink. “Didn’t we just agree that you’d stop doing this?” He held up a straight razor, checking it for something.

 

Q gulped when he saw how sharp the blade was, hands trembling lightly as he put the little bottle next to the box. “I… It’s a habit, I’m sorry.” He flinched when James turned to face him, clutching tightly to the bathrobe’s belt. “You’ll catch a cold if you don’t change from your wet clothes. I’ll just wait outside.”

 

James put his hands on Q’s shoulders and pushed him back down on the chair. “Q, relax. I’ve done this a thousand times before so I won’t cut you.” He put the shaving foam on Q’s face and tilted his head back. “Close your eyes if you think it will help, take a deep breath and try your best not to shake.”

 

He only relaxed after the blade was swiped down his neck once and James stepped aside to let Q see for himself that he had indeed not cut his throat. “You can do this after every one of them Q, but it’s going to take at least an hour,” James whispered in his ear, arm wrapped around his middle, not carrying that he was getting foam on his own face. “I promised not to let others hurt you; do you really think _I_ would allow myself to do that?”

 

It was hard to explain how Q could trust him and, at the same time, not. “I don’t like sharp objects or guns anywhere near any of my vital organs or important veins. I also stole a lot of money for you, so excuse me for being cautious.”

 

James chuckled and waited for Q to sit down before kissing his Adam’s apple. “In all honesty, those weren’t mine. They belonged to the British government.” He stopped him from running away, sitting in his lap to keep him still. “My boss will be happier to know that they went on food and shoes for starving kids than on expensive caviar and champagne. Now stop squirming under me unless you want things to turn even more awkward then they already are.”

 

Q froze, green eyes widening when he _felt_ what James was referring to. “I amnot going to sleep with you.”

 

***

 

As James watched Q devour his third serving of chicken, he promised himself to sign up for a program that would send a monthly fee from his enormous bank account to a charity that took care of homeless people.

 

“If you want more, tell me and I’ll get room service back in here,” James said after Q was done actually licking clean a plate.

 

Q shook his head, patted his stomach while smiling and James took a napkin, leaning over to wipe his mouth. “I am full, thank you.” He narrowed his eyes, pulling away from him. “But I am still not sleeping with you if that is your ultimate goal.”

 

James was starting to worry about Q constantly saying that, but still forced himself to laugh. “I promise that I will not make you do anything you don’t want to.” He cupped his face and planted a kiss on his forehead, disappearing in the bathroom. “But we are sharing the bed. It’s big enough for us not to touch each other.”

 

He kept his shower quick and walked out to a happy Q jumping around on the bed. Now that he was shaved and wearing pyjamas that were a size too big – the hotel manager apologizing about it while explaining that it was the only silk one the store had on stock and assuring James that all the other clothes were in the right size, shoes included – he looked like he was barely twenty-two.

 

“Was the roach you saw this time a flying one?” James asked amusedly, leaning against the door frame.

 

“I was just checking to be sure that there isn’t anyone hidden in the mattress or under the bed,” Q easily lied, although James would have to teach him how to do that without blushing.

 

“That is quite a good way to test for those sorts of things,” James decided to play along with Q’s lie just to let him have his innocent fun and spare him from feeling even more embarrassed, climbing on the bed with him. “Although I think two people would be the ultimate test, don’t you agree?”

 

He started to jump and Q quickly joined him, his laughter filling the room. He clapped his hands and clung to James when he almost fell, the agent holding him tightly as they still continued to jump.

 

Normally, James wouldn’t have acted like this. He wouldn’t have given in to his inner child’s demands to have this kind of fun with Q and the bed would be squeaking under them for different reasons. But Q wasn’t normal and although he had gotten involved in this by his own fault, it had been hunger and carrying for others that proved to be his downfalls.

 

All the others in the past, all the women who tried to kill him first only to sleep with him later, the woman he loved who he had held under the shower while allowing her to cry her stress, fear and entered James’ world knowing fully well what kind of dangers awaited them.

 

Q stumbled and pickpocketed his way in it and death or permanent damage would be too cruel of a lesson for being a petty thief.

 

“I think we’re safe,” Q announced and threw himself on the mattress, arm over his eyes as he continued to laugh.

 

He was a speck of colour in a sea of white and something broke in James’ mind because he suddenly wanted to see this image in his actual bed until the day he died. It didn’t have to be the exact same picture: Q could be wear less clothing or no clothing, covered in sweat as he panted and moanedor simply wearing one of James’ shirts as he quietly read a book, watched some silly thing on TV or filled on a laptop.

 

A light kick to his calf brought him out of his fantasy, Q frowning at him. “You’re really creepy when you stare without blinking, you know. Do I need to worry about anything? Maybe sleep with one eye open?”

 

James plopped next to him, running his hand through his soft hair. “Did you ever regret sleeping somewhere you thought was safe? But then it turned out that it wasn’t and you...” He trailed off, wishing that an MI6 psychiatrist was there with him. Wait, if he called up R and asked her to get him one on the phone, could she do it? Were they on call like normal doctors?

 

“You space out a lot for someone who’s supposed to always be on guard,” Q said right against his ear, poking his left cheek. He jumped back when James made to catch his hand, holding up a pillow as a shield. “Anyway, to cut your interview short the answers are: no one touched me in the horrible way you are thinking and I am clean.” There was a little bite behind his words as if he had to deal with these questions in the past.

 

He was definitely not going to like the first five hours at MI6 – because yes, he was going to take the man back to London with him –what with all the doctors poking and probing him, asking him to play useless association games while half of the boffin branch tried to find out who he really was by taking a million pictures of his face from every possible angle.

 

“You constantly remind me that I am not lucky enough to taste you,” he grinned at how red Q turned, “so I assumed the worse. As such, I apologize.”

 

He was surprised when the pillow Q had in his arms connected with his head. “Just let me give you a helping hand with getting out all of those bad thoughts out of there,” Q teased, sticking his tongue out at him.

 

“Only fair if I return the favour,” James growled and grabbed two pillows, almost knocking Q out of bed with how hard he hit him.

 

Everything dissolved into a pillow fight of all things, Q proving just how fast he was on his feet every time he dodged a pillow only to run behind James and smack him upside the head with his ‘weapon’ before the agent realized what was going on

 

Q even managed to steal both of his pillows charging him at full force, announcing that the first to hit the ground was the loser. James imagined that this was what it felt like when a cat bumped into you, Q lacking the actual strength to push him down. But since it was obvious that the man was doing his best, he fell down, pulling Q on top of him.

 

“You have defeated me, mighty Q, King of fluffy pillows and wild hair.” He placed his arms around Q’s neck and pulled him down, kissing the side of his temple. “And what prize am I to give you for bringing me to my metaphorical knees?”

 

Q thought for a moment, glancing at the landline. “I do not remember ever getting to taste an actual cheesecake. Therefore, I want a cheesecake,” he said all serious and James started to laugh, ruffling his hair before rolling off of him.

 

“You could have asked for it when I was ordering dinner, Q. I was really surprised when all you did was glance at the dessert menu. You look like the kind of person with a huge sweet tooth,” he teased the man, catching the pillow and throwing it back at Q’s head without so much as a glance in his direction.

 

He ended up ordering every dessert the hotel had, realizing what a huge mistake that had been only when he was trying to tie Q’s hair up while the young man was clutching tightly to the toilet.

 

“I’m restricting you to a single cake per day after this,” James said carefully, not even flinching when Q elbowed him. “Hey, I wasn’t the one stuffing my face with two cakes at once half an hour ago, you gluttonous kitten.”

 

One Pepto-Bismal and a cup of peppermint mixed with camomile tea later and Q felt good enough to fall asleep curled up in a tight little ball next to James. While he had acted mostly relaxed and trusting around James when he had been awake, once he fell asleep, he revealed his cards – that of a man who had it written in his subconscious to occupy as little space as possible and to bother no one.

 

Something typical, James assumed, for someone who was used to either sleeping in the streets, sharing space with recalcitrant persons who might suffer to fits of violence if they were under the influence of certain chemicals or with someone who shared a bed with more than one person. He really hoped it was the latter.

 

James knew a few relaxing techniques but given the situation, he considered them to be invasive and a sure way of getting Q to hate him. Instead, he opted to carefully bring his back against Q’s, surprised to feel the human ball loosening up a little.

 

It was good to know that he was trusted and he promised himself to do a better job at keeping the person he was interested in alive and well. He hadn’t told Q about all the skeletons he had in his closet, but he felt their eyes on his back as if they were waiting for him to make one false move and hurt his thieving kitten so they could drag his soul in the limbo they seemed to be stuck in.

 

But this time it was going to be different, he promised himself. He wasn’t going to let himself be distracted by anything and if Q wanted to leave, he was going to have an army of agents keep an eye on him until MI6 dealt with the threat against him. And he was going to personally make sure that everyone either ended up in prison for a long time or die – he did prefer the latter; you can still hire assassins from behind bars.

 

“James?” Yes, he was also going to do his very best to hear that voice whisper, moan, grunt, groan and huff his name.“James, wake up!” Oh, it seemed that a commanding tone was also something he could work with.

 

He rolled closer to that place where Q was ordering for, rubbing his face against the much too thin chest. He was going to add meat to those bones as well and make sure he no longer looked as pale as the dead.

 

“For God’s sake, Bond!If you’re this horny, I can take you to someone who’ll be more than glad to help you with what’s poking me in the stomach, but we’ll do it _after_ you deal with whoever is trying to enter this room.” That certainly woke him up, but it Q wanted to be sure so he kicked him in the groin for good measure.

 

Stifling a groan, James rolled away from Q, pulling his gun and silencer from the bedside table, his instincts taking over instantly. “Don’t come out of here until I tell you it is safe.” Q nodded and he slid out, carefully making his way to the door.

 

He put away his gun when he heard the subdued Russian cursing coming from the other side, rolling his eyes as he opened the door and Alec Trevelyan poured in, R hovering in the background and looking beyond embarrassed.

 

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” James asked quietly, lowering his gun and stepping aside to let the duo in.

 

“Funny, I asked M the same bloody thing when she called me and started to yell about you absconding I don’t know what computer genius that R saw on cameras opening something that was supposed to take old Boothroyd and his band of merry geeks a few weeks,” Alec grumbled, picking himself up.

 

Something behind James seemed to have caught Alec’s eye, the man tense and his fingers itching to reach for his gun. When James turned around, he found Q holding the straight razor in front of him, trembling a bit.

 

“Q, this is my friend and fellow agent, Alec Trevelyan and the woman who looks like she is about to scream is an MI6 IT specialist whom we all call R.” He opened his arms and Q walked to him instantly, more than happy to let him take the razor. “And didn’t I tell you to stay in the bedroom?”

 

Those slightly pointing lips were going to be the death of him. “I was only trying to help. And neither one of you head me coming.” He sounded proud of himself, as he should be. It wasn’t an easy feat to sneak up on two double oh agents. “By the time he saw me, I could have slit his throat at least three times.”

 

Alec wanted to point out that his hesitation would have gotten both of them killed if it had indeed been someone attacking them and that the way he was holding the blade was completely wrong, but R stepped on his foot to make him swallow his words.

 

“You look younger in person than you do on tape,” she said after she was done killing Alec’s foot. “But that makes you even more brilliant!” She rested her hands on Q’s arm, letting out a little noise when James gently pushed her away from him and blocked her view of Q. “How did you manage to open that file in such a short time and on such an ancient computer?”

 

When Q opened his mouth and started to explain, his tone shifting from slightly scared to outright excited, James thought he was speaking another language. But R seemed to understand everything perfectly, nodding her head and sounding amazed at every break in Q’s speech.

 

It was Q who led her in the living room, sitting her down and completely forgetting that not even five minutes ago he was trying to convince himself to slash someone’s throat to keep both James and himself alive. And Alec was having the time of his life with how offended James looked, a deep frown etched on his face.

 

“Dumped by a younger man for technology,” Alec teased, patting his back. “I wish I could say that it happens to us all, but it never happened to me. None of my lovers felt more excited to look at a laptop than my lap, but I assume it might have something to do with your age.”

 

James growled and Alec took a step back. “Need I remind you that you are older than me?” He got distracted by Q’s laughter and turned his head to find R really close to him, showing him what appeared to be a cat video. “Don’t tell me you came here in the middle of the night to show him that, R.”

 

The woman looked from Q to James and something clicked in her head, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry to interrupt the honeymoon, but M sent us here to make sure the boy is still alive and convince him to finish what he had started in that Cafe.” She turned to Q and placed her hand on top of his. “MI6 is ready to offer you a nice sum and a lucrative contract with us if you agree to do that.”

 

Q frowned, looking nervous. “And if I don’t? What then?”

 

“I’ll arrest you and drag you to London where you will be presented as a traitor in front of a comity and forced to work for us from a small room,” Alec said matter-of-factly, cracking his knuckles.

 

James expected Q to try to bolt so he had his arms on his shoulders before he could even push his chair back. “Q, I am not going to let him do that. If you want to work with us, you will do it on your own terms and if I have to smuggle you out of here to get my boss to understand that, I won’t hesitate.”

 

Alec and R looked at him in shock and James himself was surprised by his own words. After Vesper, he completely devoted himself to MI6. To say that he was ready to ditch the agency in favour of someone he knew less than 24 hours was worrying.

 

Q appeared to think the same because he focused on R and started to say that James was drunk and that she shouldn’t listen to him. “He wouldn’t betray his country for anyone.” He elbowed James, grumbling under his breath. “I thought I only stole your wallet, not your brain as well.”

 

Alec started to laugh, hands wrapped around his stomach. “Wait, you got robbed by _him_? James, you really need an honest to God vacation if—” His words died on his lips and he choked on his laughter when he saw that Q was playing with his wallet and ID. “When did you get those? How did you get them? You didn’t even touch me!”

 

James ruffled Q’s hair and gave Alec everything back, sticking his hands in Q’s pockets to retrieve the two hundred euro bills he had sneaked in them. “We really need to have a conversation about why stealing from double oh agents is a horrible idea.” He leaned over and planted a kiss on his forehead before he realized what he was doing, R’s and Alec’s jaws hitting the ground at the innocence of the whole thing.

 

“Well, until then,” he turned to face R, smiling a bit, “if it is all right with everyone involved, I’d like to get to play with the program on the USB again.”

 

The woman clapped her hands and pulled Q into a hug, pushing the laptop his way and throwing her keys at Alec – almost hitting the still stunned agent – asking him to go bring the other two laptops she had in her room.

 

James ended up staying up the longest, rubbing Q’s back and serving him cup after cup of tea – he tried coffee, but the man got sick from the first sip – until the sun started to come up and Q threw his hands up in the air, his announcement of complete success being interrupted by a huge yawn.

 

Both R and Alec were startled awake and James moved in front of Q just in time to keep him from seeing a gun pointed at him. He pulled his glasses off and kissed his nose, pushing him towards the bedroom while R checked everything the young man had done.

 

“James, I think I’d like to work for MI6.”

 

***

 

MI6 was in an uproar and no one could get enough of the various stories about how they had gotten their newest employee. No one could really settle on how 007 and the young boffin met – some said that he was a stripper, others that he was a thief and even more claimed that he was royalty that had fallen in love with James – what his real name was or how old he really was. But they all agreed on one thing and one thing only: Q was not to get even as much as a paper cut because James turned into an animal capable of making other people eat their weapons.

 

And they weren’t exaggerating. They had the tape, the medical records and the patient in the ICU to back up their fear.

 

The incident happened when they were all just ten meters of getting on the plane that would take them back to England. No one really suspected the flight attendants to work with the organization that young Q helped destroy by decrypting the USB stick James had stolen, so the attack was a complete surprise.

 

The flight attendant right next to Q pulled out a gun and whacked him with it over the head, the others doing their best to distract the two double oh agents. R tried to follow the woman and get the unconscious man back, but she was no match for him and she was quickly dispatched with a kick to her stomach.

 

She landed right next to Bond and when he turned and saw Q, he completely lost it. He got three attackers with two bullets and had his arms around the would-be ‘Q-napper’ in less than ten seconds, punching him in the mouth hard enough to dislodge three of the man’s teeth and send him tumbling down the stairs – he had somehow managed to grab Q from him right before he started falling, the boffins slowing down the video every time to get a good look at how that happened.

 

Alec was by his side instantly with a groaning R, the security airport still nowhere in sight and James gently gave his friend the unconscious Q.

 

Everyone watched both horrified and fascinated as James broke the attacker’s gun with his bare hands and started shoving the pieces in his mouth, breaking one of the man’s bones every time he refused to swallow the metallic parts.

 

It took the combined effort of Alec and two large and muscular security guards to pull James off of the man, the agent stopping from thrashing only when he heard Q’s voice.

 

M had been livid, of course. “You could have caused an international incident,” she hissed, glaring daggers at James who was far too busy keeping an eye on the medical team who was checking Q for other wounds to care. “Why do I have to constantly ask you if you are listening to me, 007?”

 

“Yes, yes, international incident because I fought people who were trying to kill me and steal back the data that had been decrypted by a civilian when the best MI6 team couldn’t in No Man’s Land,” James said offhandedly. “I’ll send you report with all those horrible little details you and the Prime Minister love so much; excuse me.”

 

And the creepy thing was that he did. James Bond, agent 007, the same agent who had claimed at one point that he was allergic to ink, then to the paper that he had to write on, and then that all of the pens he touched exploded, had sat down and personally wrote a twenty page report which he then presented to baffled M.

 

“Did you poison the edge of the papers or something?” She asked carefully, her cold blue eyes narrowed in suspicion.

 

The smirk James gave her was anything but reassuring. “M, you insult me. It is common knowledge that the devil can’t be killed with poison. Would this be all or would you like me to read it to you as if you were a grandmother close to a hundred years who lost her glasses?”

 

And it was here where MI6 split into camps again. You see, James Bond had never done a report _willingly_. M usually had to threaten him with retracting his double oh status and demoting him to a security guard to get him to write even half of paper that was usually filled with sarcastic remarks and complaints about how doing that was a complete waste of time.

 

He had done it because he was completely smitten with Q, a half claimed. And who could blame him? Q was young, smart, his laughter was so infectious that it didn’t matter that his jokes were almost as lame as James’ pick-up lines and he was an incredible fast learner. The young boffin already had an unofficial fan club that M and Boothroyd pretended not to know about.

 

Wrong, the other half whispered. Q was related to James Bond. The agent wasn’t romantic and yet everyone saw him place little kisses on Q’s forehead and temples, rubbing his shoulders and bringing him lunch, mechanical devices which Q took them apart almost instantly and all sorts of other little gifts that had Q hugging him tightly. If they were in a romantic relationship, everyone would walk in on the agent having his way with the young man in a closet.

 

Not to mention that three months had passed since Q had started working there and Bondstill waltzed in the boffin branch just to see him, his mood instantly getting better while his eyes shone with something they never saw before in them. That meant that they had to be related because Bond’s attention span when it came to partners never went beyond one month.

 

They tried to ask R, but the woman refused to say anything clear, instead offering to start a betting pool on the exact relationship – the bets were secret to all but her and 006, Trevelyan being yet another unknown in the complicated equation that was Q and Bond. They could also pick a date when they thought the mystery would be resolved for a bonus.

 

“You work alongside spies; I am sure you all learned something from them,” she offered when she was asked how they were supposed to find out if the two were lovers or related. “And don’t try to hack into their files. Major Boothroyd had tasked Q with creating a firewall around them just to see how good he is and he himself hasn’t quite figured out how to get past it.”

 

And so, the contest started. Some were actually good at going unnoticed for a few minutes, while others were instantly caught and scared away by 007’s cold glare. They added the information they managed to gather in their notebooks which they compared at the end of every week to see if they could reach a definitive conclusion or not.

 

So far, they had found out that Q had a sweet tooth which he liked to indulge at the end of the day. He was also not allowed more than one cake per day, something which didn’t make him happy at all.

 

“Two cakes don’t have the same effect as ten, James,” Q argued. “I am not going to get sick, I promise.”

 

Bond always gave in and Q always got at least six, the agent ending up holding his hair back while R went to look for Pepto-Bismal. If Bond was away on a mission, Trevelyan was on ‘Q watch’ and the man avoided the whole thing by giving him two cakes to start with.

 

Result: inconclusive. Both a relative and a lover can know how much sugar Q could handle and in both cases it was natural to try to avoid sickness.

 

Q also devoured TV shows and movies like he was trying to make up for lost time. They never managed to keep the two in sight long enough to enter the same cinema as them and see how they interacted under the cover of dark. The TV shows were a bigger mystery and when one co-worker asked Q to binge a series with him, James didn’t tag along but did pick him up when Q called.

 

Result: inconclusive. Not enough data gathered.

 

It wasn’t just James who brought Q his tea, but the fact that he did only served to confuse everyone even more. James didn’t bring just anyone anything. Even Alec, his best friend, had to be seriously wounded to get the man to bring him even a glass of water.

 

But he knew exactly how to make it and it always got him a kiss on the cheek. Alec always forgot and brought him coffee and R always brought him new assortments, as if Q was trying them all for the first time in his life.

 

It was driving them mad. The double ohs that were in on this tried asking Bond directly, only to get their asses handed to them in hand to hand combat training and when they tried to talk to Q, Alec was next to him, acting like a guard while playing with his brand new throwing knives.

 

They were slowly starting to accept that they’ll never find out the truth. And then one day, two boffins got lucky and caught James and R talking about Q in the recreational room.

 

“Q is really excited about the new apartment,” R was saying, pulling out her phone and unlocking it. “He sent me a bunch of pictures and even a little video of—“

 

“That bloody fur ball that has it in for me, yes I know,” James interrupted, clearly in a horrible mood.

 

Everyone knew the story of Epsilon, the ‘meat cutter’ Q had as a pet and third guardian that James allowed to live after ruining five of his suits in one week and the leather interior of his Aston Martin only because it belonged to Q – again, not really helpful since a family member or a lover would forgive a pet of their loved one.

 

R clicked her tongue. “I thought it would be funnier to see a grown man be so upset over a cat named Epsilon and an apartment. And yet, it’s more pathetic than amusing.” She looked like she wanted to pat the man’s back, but the glare she received sent her next to the coffee maker.

 

“That dump is two hours away from here, it’s incredibly small, there is not tub in the bathroom, the fridge is incredibly small, and Q will melt in the summer because it’s on the last floor.” He suddenly got up and the eavesdropping boffins froze thinking they had been caught only to sigh in relief when the agent made a beeline for the coffee.

 

“Because London is well known for its extremely hot summers, Bond,” R said sarcastically, slapping his hands away from the coffee cup. “You’re also ignoring the fact that the building is one of the few with air-conditioning. Also, is Q happy in this dump?”

 

The boffins were going to swear on their lives that a double oh agent who wasn’t Alec pouted and no one was going to believe them because they were talking about James bloody Bond, the agent who got the KGB’s best agent to switch sides with a wink – while ignoring that they all saw a picture of him eating in a fast food restaurant, dressed in casual clothes, mayo in the corner of his mouth, half of a burger spilled on the tray in front of him.

 

“You know bloody well that he is.” He let out a long, suffering sigh and rubbed his face. “And I am not dumb enough not to understand _why_ since it is the first important thing he bought for himself, with his own money which he earned legally. I’d be happier if he lived just a tad closer to me. And by ‘closer’ and ‘tad’ I mean with me.”

 

There was a moment of silence in which R looked crestfallen at the agent. “Oh God... He’s not just a project for you, is he? He’s... You’re... Does he know?”

 

James made a little noise and both boffins knew what side won even before he talked. “I thought it was obvious for everyone, but you thought he was a project and Alec informs me there is a betting pool on if we are lovers or _related_ ,” he stopped, frowning. “Something tells me that he’s also unaware of just how much I care for him.”

 

So used were the two with an overly confident and cocky James Bond that the sight of him as a conflicted and indecisive confused the hell out of them. Everyone considered him to be a superhuman, what with the way he stood up to M, did pretty much whatever he wanted and had people falling for him left and right. To see him being an actual human being was not meant for their eyes.

 

“This is going to sound offensive,” the woman started to say just as the two eavesdropping boffins slowly backed away, “but it is _you_ who we’re talking about. You fall in love more often than anyone changes their socks.”

 

The two were too far away to hear what the agent reply had been to R’s piece of truth, but they were sure every psychiatrist they had would have sold their souls to be in their position and would have risked their lives to hear it. But they had found out what they wanted to know and namely that yes, Q and James Bond were in a relationship and that it wasn’t as much as a secret as Bond simply being horrible at making it obvious.

 

***

 

Q loved his new life. He was getting paid to do something that came to him naturally and it helped make the world a better place, the people he worked with where extra nice if a little bit too curious for his liking - then again, they were working with spies; he expected that some of that will rub off on him and he’ll start to poke his nose in everyone’s business - and James was by his side.

 

Actually, if he was 100 % honest with himself, he’d be happy even if he was stuck sleeping in a dumpster behind Vauxhall Cross and his co-workers threw rotten fruit at his head if James was by his side. And that scared him a bit, especially since the rumours he heard regarding his crush - he was more than a crush; a crush was the boy that got him kicked out of his home and he was aware that his feelings for James ran deeper than that - were that he ‘fucked and walked’.

 

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop but every now and then he forgot that it was perfectly okay - and even indicated when double ohs were involved – to be heard walking so he ended up hearing quite a lot of gossip. And most of it involved him and James. He almost laughed out loud when he heard two people discuss the possibility of the two of them being related and his heart stopped when he heard another one say that he felt bad for Q because '007 will start get bored of him soon if he doesn’t put out’.

 

He asked R what that meant and the woman quickly changed the subject. Alec was just as tight lipped as the woman, but Boothroyd was more than happy to share some of the knowledge he had on the agent with him. Namely that yes, James Bond was a well-known womanizer who had the attention span of a seven year old in a candy shop when it came to relationships.

 

“In all honesty, I think it’s different when it comes to you, Q,” the old major added quickly when he saw just how sad Q looked, rubbing his neck and mentally kicking himself for not starting the whole conversation with that. “I mean, I have never seen him look at anyone the way he does when you’re in the room. Did you two…That is to say, it isn’t any of my business and I understand if you don’t want to…” He trailed off, coughing and looking extremely uncomfortable. “You should definitely talk about this with your psychiatrist, Q.”

 

And Q did just that, regretting that he brought up the subject when the doctor was drinking water. “It’s quite alright,” Q assured the doctor who was trying his best to dry him. “I take it from your reaction that something is wrong with me liking James and wishing for our relationship to last?”

 

“From what I saw, you do not have an unnatural attachment to Mister Bond, so what you are feeling is normal.” He hated the fact that the man gave him a pity pat on the back, as if it had been better for him if he had agreed with him.

 

Q fiddled with the hem of his shirt, trying to gather enough courage to ask his next question - a silly question, one that a man his age wasn’t supposed to ask.

 

“You can ask me anything you want Q. Do it in your own time,” the doctor encouraged him, smiling kindly.

 

Taking a deep breath, Q closed his eyes and blurted it out. “Can I take it to the next level? My relationship with James, I mean.”

 

The doctor leaned over and squeezed his hand. “That is the type of question to which only you know the answer, Q. If you feel like you are ready and if you are sure that you are not pressured into it by your partner or by anyone who might bright your age into any conversation related to sexual activity, then go for it.”

 

They talked about Q’s father afterwards, about his abandonment issues – Q suspected it was the doctor’s own way of cautioning him that a relationship with James might end up further deepening those problems – and about how he wasn’t to blame for the outcome.

 

“You did well for accepting who you are,” the man said, smiling at him. “And you are an excellent survivor. Not many can do what you did and live on the streets for as long as you did without losing a part of their humanity or sanity.”

 

Q also talked about how he was afraid that the way he reacted to certain things might make others think that he was…defective. “When I saw James’ huge tub, I couldn’t help but want a rubber ducky and I bought one.” He laughed, running a hand through his hair. “A man my age, playing with something like that…”

 

“You were forced to mature very quickly and when you ended up on the streets, you were deprived of things we take as granted. You’d be surprised at how many adults with normal jobs have comfort toys.” He scribbled something on his pad. “Did James mock you for buying the toy? Did he talk down to you or as if he was talking with a child? Does he ever do that?”

 

Q smiled, remembering how the man had jumped in the tub with him and showed him how he could use the duck as a squirt gun. “No. As far as I could tell, he likes it. He even bought me another one that’s slightly bigger and dressed like a navy commander to keep it company.”

 

The doctor stopped scribbling and looked up surprised at Q. “Did he talk about his past with you? What he was before starting to work with us?”

 

Only then did it dawn at Q that James had bought him a duck version of himself and he loved the thing even more. “I suppose I should draw glasses on the other one then, right?”

 

“Only if you want to, Q,” the doctor said, a gentle smile on his lips.

 

He left the office feeling more confident and determined to have a conversation with James as soon as he got home. But his newly found confidence started to get chipped by the wave of gossip that had taken over MI6.

 

It seemed that James was going to be sent on a honeypot mission. At first, Q had no idea what that mission meant and he realized that he wouldn’t get a straight answer out of anyone the second people swallowed their words when they noticed that he was in the room.

 

So he did a little research and in less than a minute he felt the very same emptiness he did when his first boyfriend had slammed the door shut in his face after he had gone to him, asking him for help because his father had kicked him out of the house.

 

After that, he started to sneak around on purpose so he could listen in on his colleagues discussing the mission. He heard them pitying him because the mission was a woman that was just James type – frail, drop-dead gorgeous, married woman that was completely ignored by her suspected weapon’s dealer husband.

 

“Q lasted more than anyone else, I’ll give him that,” one boffin said.

 

His friend hummed in agreement, pouring himself a cup of tea. “Hope he got all the mind-blowing sex out of it because I have a feeling that Bond will pull a disappearing act for a few months and then come back just as moody as always.”

 

“Oh great, this means that M will also go back to her eternally disgruntled, annoyed, and pissed self. I can’t want,” the first one said drily, shaking his head.

 

Q focused only on his work after that, doing his best to dodge R’s worried questions. Boothroyd had already been dispatched in the country were James was supposed to go in two days so he could set up the temporary MI6 hideout, so Q was left to deal only with Alec’s intrusive questions.

 

And while he usually loved the man’s curious nature, this time it was really getting on his nerves because he refused to take a hint and leave him the hell alone. “I have a headache and nothing else,” he finally snapped at the agent. “So please stop talking already and leave me alone.”

 

Alec frowned and Q braced himself for whatever was going to come next – and yet he was surprised by the gentle, large and calloused hand that rested on top of his head. “I think a shot from M’s special scotch that James’ craves so much might help you relax a little. However, he’ll have a fit if I bring him a drunken kitty so—“

 

An idea crossed Q’s mind and he jumped out of Alec’s car. “I forgot something. Please wait right here with the engine running.”

 

It wasn’t too hard for him to get the bottle out of M’s office, Miss Moneypenny too busy with the little bug – Sorry, Eve; I do really like you – that had infected her phone to notice him. Alec looked at him suspiciously when he threw himself in his car and ordered him to drive, but did as he was told and kept quiet the entire ride to James’ apartment.

 

When they pulled in the underground parking lot, Alec unbuckled Q’s seatbelt for him because he was clawing at it and cursing. “James had a few errands to run and he’ll be back in an hour or two. Do you want me to stay with—“

 

“No!” Q interrupted him, flinching at how he had shouted. “Sorry, thank you, but no. I think I’ll take a little nap and home my headache goes away before he comes back. However, can you please take care of Epsilon for me?”

 

Alec nodded, taking the keys from Q. “I’m billing James for every shirt that living shredder of yours destroys. He hates it everyone but you.”

 

He gave Alec a quick and awkward hug, hitting the car’s horn with his back and ending up with the steering wheel lodged in his side before running in the building. The doorman greeted him and asked him if everything was okay and Q nodded, almost running right into a wall. Even the apartment’s bloody door gave him trouble despite the fact that he only had two keys on his chain.

 

His original plan had been to simply strip and throw himself in James’ arms. But with James away for two hours, he now had time to prepare a little dinner - which meant that he was going to order from James’ favourite restaurant because he couldn’t even cook as much as an omelette without destroying the frying-pan - and himself.

 

He wanted to show his lover that he too could pleasure him - he had no idea how to actually do it other than just sit on his stomach and moan when he thought it was the right time - and that he was worth returning to when the mission was done.

 

When he heard the front door open and James ask if he was awake or not, his heart dropped in his stomach and he had to fight to get his breathing back under control. “I’m in the bedroom,” he called, voice wavering.

 

“Are you feeling better? Alec said you were feeling a bit ill so I rushed…” He trailed off when he saw Q spread out on the bed, wearing nothing more than one of his large shirts that had turned into a see-through because it looked as if Q hadn’t dried himself properly.

 

“H-hello, lover,” Q stuttered out, mentally kicking himself for sounding scared instead of sultry.

 

“Do you have a fever?” James looked worried instead of horny and he leaned close his lover and brushed his lips against his forehead before resting his chin against it. “Your hair is wet, but you feel cold. Did the hair dryer break?”

 

Q wrapped his arms around James and pulled him down, the man accidentally hitting him in the chin with his head. “Sorry, sorry," Q groaned rolling away. "I am fine, just give me a moment,” he insisted, shrugging James’ hands off his back.

 

“I’ll go bring you a bathrobe and the hair dryer,” James said, disappearing into the bathroom before Q could stop him.

 

He came back to a Q on the verge of tears, looking lost and scared. “W-we could eat first, if that’s what you want,” he hiccupped. “I ordered your favourite food and stole that scotch Alec said you love so much from M’s office and I am sorry?”

 

Draping the bathrobe on Q’s shoulders seemed to be the final straw for the man and he broke down, hiding his face under a pillow and not really making any sense. James tried his best to get the man to stop crying, rubbing his back and kissing his neck, but Q seemed only to cry harder and harder.

 

He was trying to explain that he understood that he was an agent and that sleeping with others was a normal part of his job, but they could sleep together too if they wanted. He was so ready for it, he promised and he wasn’t really crying right now. The pressure in the air had changed, he was sure of it and that was why water was coming out of his eyes and if he could just go out of the apartment and come back in again in ten minutes, they could have sex.

 

All James got from the hiccups and the sobs was the word ‘sex’. “Q, we’re not sleeping together—” He was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath quickly followed by a chocking sound, Q’s body shaking with silent sobs.

 

“Just- Just give me a minute and I’ll- I’ll get my stuff and go,” Q wheezed out, James wrapping his arms around him and pulling him in his lap the second he sat up.

 

“You are not going anywhere when you’re like this, Q.” James tilted his head back, took his glasses off and wiped his eyes, kissing the bridge of his nose. “We’ll take deep breaths together and then you’ll tell me what happened again if it is not too much, okay?”

 

Q nodded and James pushed him against his chest, hands plastered against his back. “In,” he took a deep breath and Q did the same, “and out. Good, good; and again.”

 

Q didn’t mean to fall asleep, but the sound of James’ heartbeat - elevated as it was, indicating that despite how secured his voice sounded, he was also panicked - combined with his smell made it almost impossible for him to keep his eyes open.

 

He woke up hot and confused as to why the bed was moving and rumbling under him until he realized that he was tightly wrapped in the covers and that he was on top of James, the man talking in a hushed whisper with someone on the phone, fingers tangled in his hair.

 

“I am not threatening you doctor, I am simply telling you the only possible outcome if you do not tell me what you did to my Q that caused him to breakdown.” He stopped to listen to what the man had to say, clicking his tongue. “I don’t think I need to tell you what to do with your doctor-patient confidentiality, right? You tell me this instant why my Q was crying or I will–”

 

“James,” Q whispered and James closed his phone, tossing it on the other side of the room and focusing fully on him.

 

“Terrible connection,” he lied horribly, hoping to get at least a tiny smile out of Q. “Love, can you tell me why you were acting so strange? It’s okay if you don’t, but I would feel a lot better if you did,” he added quickly, pulling Q up with ease and kissing the top of his nose.

 

Q looked away from James and started to play a button on his shirt. “The doctor said that I should talk to you first, but I…” He tried to roll away from James and the man let him, resting his large hand against the back of Q’s neck. “But I panicked when I heard them pitying me and saw what 'honeypot mission’ meant and…” He trailed off and took a deep breath to calm himself down before he started crying again.

 

He was a complete mess; a damaged, overly-emotional man with self-esteem so low that they needed to dig to find it. He wouldn’t blame James if he ditched him and went on an unofficial vacation with whatever woman MI6 was throwing at him - he deserved it after putting up with someone who couldn’t even remember to make noise when he walked.

 

“My upcoming missing was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about today,” James whispered against his ear, hugging him tightly. “The other thing being that, and please understand that despite my Casanova status I do not just throw these words around, I love you.”

 

Q turned to look at James, eyes wide and lips parted.

 

“Yes Q, I love you.” He pulled the still too skinny man in his opinion back on top of him and proceeded to give him a deep kiss. “And because of that, I am turning down the mission and requesting a two week vacation,” he whispered against Q’s lips, rubbing little circles between his shoulder blades.

 

He felt as if he were in a trance and he couldn’t look away from the man, despite how foggy everything was without his glasses. “I hope you have a great time.”

 

James chuckled. “Well, if you agree to come with me, I will.” He pushed the hair out of Q’s eyes, caressing his face. “I have a little yacht that we’ll use to get to the island a friend is letting me borrow, so you do not have to worry about flying. And yes love, I could tell that you hated being on that airplane from the way you shivered, sweated, and jumped at every little noise.”

 

Q felt his face turn red and he hid in James’ chest. He had made a complete fool of himself and only because, despite trusting James with everything from his life to his future, he hadn’t trusted him with his feelings – understandable, the voice in his head that sounded like his psychiatrist said, since the last person you did that with abandoned you when you needed him the most.

 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to spend those two weeks on that island with a woman who doesn’t hide behind the closet doors when she changes despite you already having seeing her naked?” Q asked in weakly, placing little kisses on James’ neck.

 

“Quite sure, love. Quite sure.” He cupped Q’s face and put his glasses on his nose, ruffling his hair. “And never force yourself to do something you are not ready. For me sex does not mean that we are in a relationship or that we love each other. I like it, yes, and I will love every moment in which I’ll have you quivering and moaning my name under me, sweating and buckling against me. But that will happen only when you feel it’s time, okay?”

 

Licking his lips and gulping, Q tried to subtly change his position so James wouldn’t feel his rather large problem. “I’ll promise to do my best not to let gossip get to me again.”

 

“And if it does, come and talk to me.”

 

Q nodded and James rolled them over, starting to suckle and nibble on his throat to leave behind marks for the world to see. “I love you, James,” Q mewled.

 

James moved up and stole a little kiss from Q, chuckling. “And I am lucky, my little thief. Oh, before I forget…” He pulled out the bottle of scotch from under the bed, using his weight to keep Q from scrambling away. “I am not going to encourage you to do this despite me asking you for pointers later on how to do it, but it would be a shame to waste this opportunity and M will shout at me when she finds out about it anyway.”

 

“You know, I think I have some tea that has the same colour.” Running a slender finger down James’ chest, Q grinned. “By the time she notices it, we’ll be long gone.”

 

Sure that Q was not going to run away, James rolled off of him and poured the expensive liquid in the two glasses on the floor. “I love the way you are thinking, kitten.” He gave Q a glass and clinked his against it. “To us.”

 

Q smiled. “To us.” He took a sip and his face scrunched up instantly, James taking the glass away and gently patting his back. “Oh God, it’s horrible. How can you taste good if you drink this?”

 

“Then you’ll only taste it on my tongue and I shall bathe you in that champagne you love,” James promised, cupping his chin and giving him a quick kiss. “Now, my kitten—“

 

“Epsilon!” Q shouted and James forgot that he was keeping his hatred for the furry thing a supposed secret from his young lover, pulling a face for a second. “James, can Epsilon come with us?”

 

Letting out a suffering sigh, James nodded. “But we’re going to have to take it to your branch tomorrow to have it chipped. The island is big compared to the f—eline and _darling Epsilon_ ,” Q was barely holding back his giggles as James struggled to say those two words without chocking or looking murderous, “has a tendency to get into trouble.”

 

Q threw his arms around James, hugging him tightly. “He loves you almost as much as I do, you know.” He had tried to say that with a straight face, but he snorted when James raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, so he _might_ be trying to kill you, but I won’t let him.”

 

“There is no question about it, Q.” He sat back and took off his shirt, not missing the hungry look Q was giving him. “As you can see by the marks he left behind, he is slowly moving towards the jugular.”

 

“I will kiss them better, I promise.” He covered James’ mouth before he could argue, looking him straight in the eyes. “Kissing any part of you is something that I do not have to force myself to do, so shut up and let me give you blue balls.”

 

“Whatever you wish, my love,” James mumbled against Q’s palms, kissing them.

 

Three days later, James was putting suntan lotion on Q’s back, glaring at Epsilon who was lounging on one of Alec’s favourite pillows – his bloody best friend betrayed him and sided with the meat cutting machine – and sprouting a new scratch right above his hipline.

 

But, truth be told, he wasn’t really bothered by it, especially since Q discovered half an hour after James got it that he loved paying extra attention with his lips and tongue to it and to the area just below it.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love~


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